Rotten Tuna
by Skippy Agogo
Summary: Tuney hits the afterlife.  Who would you least like to speak with if you were Petunia Dursley.


No one I've seen has yet written a 'Tuney's afterlife story... Well, I'll have a go. It's probably going to suck as there is no way of confusing me with JKR. If you think my story deserves a review cool, flame it for blasphemy and I'll laugh my head off, if you think money should be sent, give it to your local spca and say it's in honour of JKR.

Petunia Dursley had quite the ordinary home, with an ordinary husband, an ordinary garden, and was most happy to know that none of her neighbours could possibly remember that horrible boy who had been foisted upon her so many years ago. Nothing at all could possibly disturb the happiness that Petunia felt on this glorious morning.

'Hello, Tuney. It's been a long time since we've spoke to one another.' A voice that Petunia had not heard in decades disturbed her more than she thought possible. She found her eyes looking around at the very familiar, yet totally ordinary livingroom in which she had lived with Vernon for many years. Finally, her eyes locked onto a very uncommon witch, a witch very famous in the wizarding world, yet totally unknown in the world Petunia chose to acknowledge.

'What are you doing in my home? How can you be here, you're supposed to be dead! Freak!' Petunia asked coldly.

'You see your home do you? Interesting, that really is quite fascinating. Wouldn't you like to know what I am seeing 'Tuney? Pray tell dear 'Tuney, what is the last thing you remember?'

'Vernon and I are going to visit our normal daughter-in-law, she has just given birth to our first grandchild.' sneered Petunia 'Vernon! Vernon, where are you?'

'Petunia, sister dear, Vernon shall be along shortly. Time no longer has the significance it had in the living world. Do trust me when I tell you that I am not enjoying this little visit with you. I could be spending time with my husband watching over my child and his children right now. Instead, I'm talking to one of two people who I dearly loved as a child, and yet both of whom turned on me and then saw fit to abuse my child. Both you and Severus treated him like he was something the cat dropped on the doorstep, rather than a human being worthy of love. Had you given my son half the love our parents gave the two of us he would not have been burdened with part of the soul of England's darkest wizard. Of the two of you only Severus had the excuse of having to maintain his cover as a spy. What is your excuse for how you raised the children given to your care?'

'I'M NOT DEAD! You are dead, I am alive and going to visit my grandchild this afternoon! This must be a dream, a horrible dream.'

Lily laughed 'You think you have indigestion do you? A bit of oatmeal gone bad, eh? This is not a play written by Charles Dickens, big sister. You did visit your grandson this afternoon, and the second you saw the colour of his eyes your shrivelled heart stopped. Did you not think to listen to me when I told you that there was an afterlife? I do seem to recall our parents bringing us to church on Sunday mornings before I went to Hogwarts, perhaps you missed the sermons warning you not to abuse children. My dear sister, welcome to your afterlife.'

'No, this isn't hell. The only demon I see is you! This is nothing more than a nightmare. I will wake up. I will wake up I tell you! I WILL WAKE UP, NOW!'

'Petunia, look into my eyes. You need to realise where you are and what you have done with your life. We need to talk, and that's not going to happen if you continue to be unreasonable.'

Reluctantly, with the feeling that she really had no other choice but to comply, Petunia looked into her sister's eyes for the first time in more years than either of the two girls cared to admit.

She remembered the shock of seeing them again that afternoon, they were the same eyes her grandchild has, and felt great sorrow that she did not ask Dudley what his name was before seeing those eyes. Yet the eyes of her sister were not the innocent eyes of a newborn, they were eyes that accused, eyes that knew exactly what sort of person was in front of her. Eyes which expressed the greatest sort of disappointment, not even the eyes of her nephew caused Petunia such grief. Petunia started to groan, then trembled as if suffering an epileptic fit.

'Ah, the scales are finally ripped from your own eyes are they? Ready to talk about your life and the consequences of your own choices are you?' Said Lily coldly 'Well, the consequence of your life is in the cupboard under your stairs. Into your care is now placed the mangled soul of Tom Riddle. Repair that damage, heal the man who murdered so many people including your only sister and brother-in-law.'

'No, no, no, this is not possible. You're the witch, you should be the one in hell. The bible says that witches should burn, not decent people like me. I raised your evil sprog, how dare you ask me to care for another freak!'

'What are you thinking. Do you really think you can tell Goddess how to run His creation? You are unbelievable. What do you think people worship in their churches, mosques or the synagogues and temples or fields of the world? A book? Hah! Those books, stories myths and fables are merely the creation of men. To look at them and expect to find God is to look through a darkened glass.' A loud crash could be heard above them 'And there's Vernon. James and he will have a chat before he comes down to join you. When he does come downstairs I'll be gone, neither you nor he shall see the outside of this house until you have completed your final work.'

An outraged cry of anguish sounded from upstairs, followed by the thundering footsteps of a heavy man coming down the stairs. The loud cries of an infant sounded from a cupboard. For the first time in her life Petunia thought that perhaps normality was a bit rotten.


End file.
